219: Chapter 219 Crushing Victory! This is the Third Generation of Tyrants!

Texas, late night.

In the desolate suburbs, the pharmaceutical storage center under Weber's name loomed exceptionally massive in the dark.

Boom!

With a deafening crash, the half-meter-thick alloy gate of the storage center was violently torn open, leaving a gaping hole.

Fifty massive monsters covered in lumpy muscles roared as they rushed out of the darkness.

They were one of the trump cards of the Old Money Alliance, the Scavengers.

Behind them, over a hundred well-equipped DuPont Family special forces raised their weapons and skillfully established an outer defensive line, their eyes filled with the cruelty of a cat playing with a mouse.

Inside the command vehicle, a DuPont Family commander holding the rank of colonel was leisurely sipping red wine while watching the drone feed.

“The target is Warehouse C, where three billion worth of Neo-Genesis is stored,” he ordered into the communicator. “Scavenger unit, go in and clear the area. Tear every living thing to shreds. Remember, I want to see the footage of Umbrella's security being ripped to pieces.”

“Yes, sir!”

Fifty Scavengers roared deafeningly, scrambling to pour through the gate.

But the moment they stepped into the warehouse, they froze collectively.

The expected fierce resistance did not materialize.

There was not a single person in the entire storage center.

The next second.

Click!

Blinding incandescent lights instantly turned on, illuminating this massive space—large enough to fit an aircraft carrier strike group—as bright as day.

Empty, dead silent.

This was no warehouse; it was clearly a colosseum prepared just for them.

The commander frowned, a foreboding feeling rising in his chest.

“What's going on? Did Umbrella's people run away?”

Just as he finished speaking, something happened.

Clang—Boom!

Deep inside the warehouse, the side walls of ten giant shipping containers collapsed outward without warning, slamming heavily onto the ground with a deafening crash.

Through the dust, ten towering figures stepped out of the shadows of the containers in perfect unison.

They were all over 2.5 meters tall, wearing well-tailored long black trench coats, the hems swaying slightly as they walked. Their exposed skin was bronze, with smooth yet powerful muscle lines, and their faces were completely devoid of expression, chillingly cold.

The Third-Generation Mass-Produced Tyrant, T-801.

They silently stood in a row, just a hundred meters in front of the Scavengers.

Inside the command vehicle, Colonel DuPont spat a mouthful of red wine all over the screen.

“What... what on earth are those? Umbrella's new bodyguards? Dressed up so fancy!”

He had absolutely no idea how serious the situation was.

The low intelligence of the Scavengers could not comprehend the situation. After a brief hesitation, beastly instinct took over.

“Roar!”

The nearest Scavenger roared, its hind legs exerting sudden force as it lunged at the Tyrant on the far left, its sharp claws aiming to rip the Tyrant's head open.

However, the ten Tyrants remained motionless.

They didn't even blink.

Just as the Scavenger was about to pounce right in front of them.

The ten Tyrants made a movement so perfectly synchronized that it made one's scalp tingle.

They raised their right arms in unison.

The sleeves of their trench coats slid back, revealing not palms, but a dark, menacing metal creation of six gun barrels—an Embedded Six-Barrel Rotary Machine Gun.

The next second.

Whir—Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat!

A deafening metal storm instantly swept through the entire warehouse.

Ten tongues of fire made of large-caliber bullets wove a web of death with absolutely no blind spots.

The Scavenger rushing at the very front didn't even have time to scream before its massive body was instantly shredded in mid-air by the violent hail of bullets into flying chunks of flesh.

Genetic defects gave the Scavengers extremely high muscle density, but their defensive capabilities were pitifully weak.

This wasn't a battle.

This was a one-sided massacre.

The fifty bio-weapons that Colonel DuPont thought were so formidable were now being slaughtered like turkeys.

Blood mist, bone fragments, and organs were sent flying everywhere by the barrage.

The entire warehouse turned into a meat grinder.

“No! Impossible!”

Inside the command vehicle, Colonel DuPont threw away his wine glass and gripped the console tightly, his eyes bulging as if they were about to pop out.

What was he seeing?

Those trench-coat-wearing monsters weren't shooting blindly at all.

They were executing precise burst fire and fire suppression!

The three on the left handled frontal suppression, the four in the middle formed a crossfire blockade, and the three on the right specifically picked off the Scavengers trying to flank them.

This was tactics! This was fucking tactical coordination that only armies possessed!

Two Scavengers that were lucky enough to survive the first wave of bullets roared and rushed right in front of the Tyrant squad.

The machine gun of one of the Tyrants happened to enter a brief cooldown.

Facing the bloody, gaping maw lunging at it, it made a move that scared the living daylights out of Colonel DuPont.

The Tyrant didn't dodge. Its left hand shot out like lightning, grabbing the Scavenger's lower jaw, while its right leg rose in a swift knee strike right into the Scavenger's chest.

Crack!

The crisp sound of a collapsing chest bone was clearly audible.

Immediately after, the Tyrant's arm muscles bulged, and with a twist of its wrist, it wrenched upward.

Rip!

The Scavenger's entire head, along with its spine, was violently ripped right out of its body.

On the other side, another Scavenger that rushed close was dodged by a Tyrant, who then delivered a solid military combat punch right to its temple.

Thud!

That massive head exploded on the spot.

Red and white splattered all over the Tyrant's body.

The Tyrant merely shook the brain matter off its trench coat in disgust and raised the machine gun on its right arm again.

Five minutes.

From the moment the Tyrants opened fire to the last Scavenger being riddled with bullets, the entire process took less than five minutes.

In the warehouse, only ten unharmed Tyrants remained, surrounded by a floor covered in severed limbs.

Colonel DuPont slumped in his chair, drenched in cold sweat, as a warm, foul odor spread from his crotch.

“Monsters... they are monsters...” he muttered incoherently.

This wasn't even a battle on the same level; it was a complete dimensional strike.

Just then, on the screen, the leading Tyrant slowly turned around. Its emotionless eyes seemed to pierce through the screen, precisely locking onto the location of the command vehicle.

Colonel DuPont shuddered violently.

He saw that behind that Tyrant, another Tyrant unstrapped a long black object from its back and skillfully hoisted it onto its shoulder.

Anti-tank rocket launcher!

“Quick! Retreat! Retreat now!” Colonel DuPont shrieked like a dying pig.

However, it was all too late.

A flash of fire streaked across the screen.

The next second, a violent explosion and shockwave flipped the entire command vehicle into the air, turning it into a burning fireball.

...

Los Angeles, Umbrella Headquarters War Room.

Chen Feng swirled the red wine in his glass, calmly watching the raging fire on the screen.

Sarah stood aside and reported expressionlessly, “All targets eliminated. Zero casualties on our side.”

“Mhm.”

Chen Feng took a sip of the wine; the taste was good.

He looked at Sarah, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

“Package this high-definition, uncensored video.”

“Send it to the private encrypted emails of Old Morgan, Old Rockefeller, and our new friend Julian.”

Sarah's fingers moved rapidly across the tablet.

“Boss, do you want to add a message?”

“Of course.”

Chen Feng set down his wine glass, leaned forward toward the microphone, and in a cold tone that was almost a whisper, spoke the prepared verdict.

“Tell them.”

“Your toys are too fragile.”

“If this is your trump card, then you... don't even have the right to sit at the table.”

Email sent successfully.

This night was destined to be another sleepless night for the Old Gods.